


In the Hicks

by the_grouch



Series: Keep it in the Fam [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Half-Sibling Incest, Incest, Intercrural Sex, Kissing, Light Angst, Prequel, Sex Lessons, Sexual exploration, Some dubious consent, Underage - Freeform, a little bit of a taboo kink, that pretty quickly becomes enthusiastic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-11-23 19:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11408763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_grouch/pseuds/the_grouch
Summary: It’s always something Clarke had been a little morbidly curious about. Raised out in the hicks by a paranoid mother, no other kids their age through long years of preteen and teenage years. Only natural to be curious, only natural to explore with someone you trust. Bellamy tracked his sister through the foster system, and then when he managed to come up with funds, consented to Octavia living in boarding school and visiting him on weekends. There’s a devotion between them that Clarke’s never seen, nor the charged emotion that comes with it, sometimes bombastic, sometimes tender.Before everything else, there was Bellamy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings and don't read this if they aren't for you. Nasty comments will be deleted <3
> 
> To everyone else, glad you're here.

She remembers rain, the quiet patter of it on an old shingled roof, and the nest of blankets she burrowed into with her soft rabbit, the ear of which she worried as thunder rolled overhead. She remembers the fields, overgrown with bramble patches and windflowers alike, a lush green after the rain stopped: how the dark clouds hung still over head and the water drops caught on the long blades Bellamy would pull up for them and taught her to chew on. 

She remembers the smell of dust on her clothes, and her mother, always lurking in the shadows of their little dilapidated house; her hands reaching for her, pale and thin but always gentle in her hair as she braided it for Octavia when it was raining too hard to play outside. She remembers hanging off the broken fence with Bellamy and surveying their land. They didn’t own it, but no one else did either and they had fields and ditches and streams to explore and conquer into kingdoms of their own making. 

She remembers being tucked between her mother and Bellamy on the tiny sofa at night while it rained around their house, sucking her thumb and watching old movies her mother loved. It was always the classics: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Some Like it Hot, Roman Holiday, Singing in the Rain. They were romantic and picturesque and everything they could never have. Octavia remembers being taken with the romance of them, even as a little girl. She always thought the deep, swoon-inducing kisses looked like just about the best thing ever. She knew, even then, they’d never have the glamour of New York, but that? That she could have.

It starts innocently enough.

“Have you kissed anyone, Bell?”

They’re lounging under the big, towering oak at the center of their conquered lands. Bellamy’s leaning back against the tree, chewing on his blade of grass like he’s seen some of the older boys at his school do, his face set in a serious way only fourteen year olds can pull, his hair a little too long and falling into his eyes. He scrunches up his face at her and spits out the grass. “Why do you care?”

It’s mid summer, and the humidity’s rising, promising rain and storms and a break in the heat, but it hasn’t come yet. They’re feeling too lazy to do much more than keep each other company in the shade, away from the dark, oppressive heat of the house.

“Cause I want to know what it’s like,” Octavia says, resting her chin on her drawn up knees. “I figured you could tell me if you had.”

“Yeah, ‘course I’ve kissed people,” Bellamy says with the bravado that he thinks makes him sound cool. He likes to show off more now that he’s a teenager, likes to lord it over his baby sister that he’s big and tough. Octavia knows he thinks he’s getting too old to hang out with her, which is dumb because he’s only five years older than she is and other than school they do everything together, talk about everything together. Besides, neither of them have any classmates who really want to hang out with the kids that come to school in the same three outfits, over and over and over again. “‘Sides, Sally Davis likes me.”

“Who’s Sally Davis?”

“She’s a girl. New. The one who served us ice cream the other day.” 

“How do you know that, you didn’t talk to her at all.”

“Yeah, not in front of _you_ ,” Bellamy says haughtily. “I went back after she was done on her shift and asked to walk her home.”

“And did you kiss her?”

“Not yet,” Bellamy says. 

“Well, are you gonna kiss her?”

Bellamy blushes through to his ears and Octavia giggles and pokes his arm. “Well are ya?”

“I don’t know, O,” Bellamy says, pushing her hands away. “Maybe.”

“Well then you kiss her and then you come back here and tell me what it’s like.”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Bellamy mutters and Octavia sticks her tongue out at him. 

“You just told me you were gonna. Come on, Bell. Make it a good one, ok?” She’s suddenly very invested in the idea of her brother kissing this Sally Davis the way Audrey Hepburn gets kissed in movies. She thinks of Sally melting into Bellamy’s chest, her mouth under his mouth, a soft sigh against Bellamy’s lips and Octavia shivers a little. “Kiss her right.”

“I don’t need kissing advice, O.” He plucks another blade of grass and hands it to her, takes one for himself. “You’re too little to know about these things anyway.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m going to tell mom you were teasing me again.”

“I’m _not_ , it’s just the truth.”

“How do you know you’re gonna kiss Sally Davis anyway? Maybe she only likes boys who’ve kissed girls before,” Octavia taunts her brother, needling him in the way she’s learned to in nine years of sibling bickering. “Huh? Maybe she won’t want to kiss you because you aren’t a good kisser.”

“Shut up, I am a good kisser.”

“I know you never kissed anybody.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well it doesn’t matter because I’m still a good kisser.”

“How do you know, huh?”

“Cause I do.”

“Well, prove it.”

It may be because she’s driven Bellamy to the edge of his sanity and he does it just to shut her up, or maybe she’s managed to pinpoint this insecurity of his, and in some deep, familial way, he trusts his sister for honesty despite her taunting. Either way he makes an annoyed, impatient sound and grabs Octavia’s face between his hands and kisses her, clumsy.

She’ll remember this kiss a couple years later when she’s fourteen and kisses Petey McMillan and it’s clear he’s never kissed anyone. She’ll think of it, as a passing whisper, the first time she hooks up with her freshman roommate, Clarke Griffin, and they’re giggling and sloppy drunk and acting like kissing girls is some brand new way of kissing. 

Bellamy kisses her with chapped lips and it’s dry and brief and nothing like the movies at all. Bellamy kisses her with a lot of firm, intense, unmoving pressure and then lets her go, dropping his hands to his sides and not quite looking at her. It’s nothing like the movies, Octavia thinks, lifting a hand to touch her lips, but it’s not bad. It doesn’t make her stomach flutter, but it does add a warm, sweet feeling to her chest. 

“Well?” Bellamy grunts.

“I don’t know if you should be kissing Sally Davis anytime soon.”

“Oh fuck you, O,” Bellamy spits and gets up and Octavia goes shrieking back to the house to tell on him for using foul language. Bellamy gets in trouble and his moody silence permeates the house until Aurora sends them both to bed.

The heat keeps climbing, and thunder rumbles in the distance the next day when Bellamy trudges up the path to their little house and collapses dramatically next to Octavia on porch bench. He’s been down at the stables he works part time at over the summer, and he smells like sweat and horse and looks so tired. Aurora’s off at her factory job, so Octavia’s spent the morning drawing and catching grasshoppers in glass jars. 

“Was it really so bad?” Bellamy asks her, breaking his moody silence.

“What? Kissing you?” Octavia asks, weighing the pros and cons of dumping three of her new pets in Bellamy’s hair, just to punish him for yesterday. But Bellamy looks guilty about it, not quite meeting her eyes and she decides against it. She contents herself with watching them leap from grassblade to leaf, bump into the glass and sit still for a moment to regain their bearings.

“Uh-huh.” He reaches over and takes her jar away, holds it up to look at the grasshoppers. “You gotta let these guys go.”

“I will. We’re just visiting. And no, it’s not so bad. It’s just not amazing. And if you like Sally Davis, you shouldn’t kiss her unless it’s amazing,” she finally concedes, unable to withhold her opinion any longer.

“Well I’m not gonna get much better,” Bellamy mutters, defeated and leans his head back against the house, heavy with the defeat of his crush being potentially unattainable. “Don’t have any girl to practice with.”

“I’ll practice with you,” Octavia offers and Bellamy looks up at her sharply. 

“You don’t gotta do that, O,” he says. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Nuh-uh, I want to learn too. This way we both can.”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says, squinting like he does when he’s uncertain. “I feel weird about practicing kissing with you.”

“Why?”

“Jesus, you never stop asking questions, do you? Because you’re my sister. We’re not supposed to do that.”

“Says who?”

“I don’t know, people say,” Bellamy says, sounding a little annoyed. Bellamy likes specifics, clear cut and structured. 

“Since when have you cared what people say?” Octavia presses. They were raised with whispers following after them and their mother, just loud enough to hear. Whispers about all three of them: how Aurora rarely comes out in public and how people still remember how she showed up out of the blue with bruises on her face and a pregnant belly; how Bellamy’s a little darker than then their mother and Octavia, more than the proverbial black sheep of the family; how Octavia’s grown up without a father and must be wild, if the man who beat her mother helped in her conceptio. They grew thick skins and protective shells early. No one’s opinion really matters but each others.

“I care about looking after you,” Bellamy says, thunking his head lightly against the paneling of their house. “Even if you’re a pain in the ass, half the time.”

“I don’t care what other people are gonna say,” Octavia says stubbornly. “We don’t gotta tell them, and besides, I don’t want to practice with anyone but you.”

“Even if you wanted to you don’t have anyone else either,” Bellamy reminds her in true, brotherly fashion. Octavia reconsiders shaking her grasshoppers out on Bellamy’s head after all.

“Do you want to know if you’re ready to kiss Sally Davis or not?” she asks, taking the highroad like their mother always tells them too.

“ _Fine_ ,” Bellamy huffs like he’s doing her a favor, not like she’s helping him out. Maybe he really has forgotten. 

“Now?” Octavia asks, ever impatient.

“Later,” Bellamy decides. “After dinner. You doing your work?”

“You have to do yours too. Mom says.”

“I’m gonna, I’m gonna,” Bellamy grumbles as he gets up and goes inside to get the books Aurora keeps. She’s intent her children will have a better education than what the rural schools out here offer, and even during their summer break, Bellamy and Octavia work on math and reading when they aren’t running wild behind the house. 

Octavia sets to dutifully solving math problems, and for a while it’s just the chorus of cicadas and and deepening humidity that comes with dark clouds gathering on the horizon. The heat breaks when the storm rolls in and Octavia and Bellamy relocate inside to stay dry. Bellamy cooks them up a can of beans and makes cheesy toast for dinner. Aurora works late, trying to save up to send Bellamy to college or technician school in a few years time, so it’s just them until late. After they finish homework and dinner alike, the rain’s moved on, and they take a blanket out to lie in the wet grass and watch the sunset. Octavia, the least patient between them, turns on her side as the sky glows orange and nudges her brother.

“Can we practice now?”

Bellamy licks his lips and his eyes drop to hers briefly. “Yeah, okay.”

It’s still not amazing. Neither of them really know what to do, and for a minute it’s just lame presses of lips against lips. Touching then breaking, then pressing back together again. They make quiet, puckered sounds until Bellamy turns his head a little and it makes his mouth slide over hers in a new away, adds an unexpected catch between them.

“Oh,” Octavia breathes. “I think like that.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy curls a hand around the nape of her neck to hold her in pace and keeps kissing her like that. It’s a little wetter, kind of nicer when their lips get slick with saliva and the kisses send a lovely, sweet, humming feeling through Octavia, one that settles in her chest and stomach and makes her whole body feel warm. They practice kissing until the sun goes down, and the distant stars and lightning bugs are all the light they have. They’re not amazing, Octavia thinks, but they’re not bad at it either, by the end of the night. Her lips feel bruised and a little tingly, and when she touches them, they’re swollen. Bellamy’s mouth is pink and kiss flushed and his cheeks flame with color: she likes it. She feels warm and tingly and close to her big brother and she sleeps deep and sweet that night.

They get into a rhythm of it. They never do it near the house when Aurora is home, because they both know they’d get scolded. Octavia can admit to it, she knows that she and Bellamy aren’t supposed to kiss each other, but she’s never been told the reason why explicitly, and she can’t help but think it’s a stupid rule when it makes her whole body light up wither shivery and nice tingles. It’s not doing anyone any harm, so the two of them trek to their favorite oak tree, conquering monsters and unknown attackers on the way, and take, as their heroic rewards, kisses from each other.

They lie on their sides and Bellamy rests a hand on her arm and sometimes moves her chin a little when he wants to get at a different angle. It’s pleasant and good, lips sliding over lips and sometimes it makes Octavia sigh involuntarily, or Bellamy will make a funny little huffing sound, and she knows they’re getting better at it. One time, Octavia sticks her tongue out at Bellamy, making fun of him for saying something stupid, but he’s already leaning back into practice some more and her tongue ends up in his mouth. They’re both surprised by it, going shocked and still, but Bellamy’s mouth is warm and silky and his tongue feels so nice against hers when she strokes over it. It sends a new kind of shock through her, a deeper pull in her tummy that she hasn’t felt from kissing and she breaks the kiss to pant excitedly at her brother, “You gotta try that. Stick your tongue in my mouth.”

Bellamy makes a face at her. “I’m not sure that’s how you’re supposed to it.”

“It feels nice. Just try it,” Octavia insists and opens her mouth, leans in close so that Bellamy can slide his tongue into her mouth, still frowning skeptically even as his eyes flicker shut. But he keeps his tongue in her mouth a long time, touching hers and letting her suck on it a little and he definitely seems to like it too.

This kind of kissing is wetter and slicker and sends really lovely, delicious feelings all through her body. They take turns sucking on each others tongues, and it makes their chins all messy and wet, and their mouths make smacking noise, but it makes their normal kissing even better with a surprise of a tongue darting out to touch the other’s. 

They spend long evenings practicing, and find that kissing lying down is different from kissing when Octavia sits in Bellamy’s lap, or when he leans her into the trunk of the tree and guides her face upward to get the right angle. Octavia likes it all sorts of ways, but she really likes being in Bellamy’s lap, because this way she can guide his mouth and get as much tongue as she wants. She likes chasing the feeling in her tummy, the one that’s kind of funny, but also exciting, like some big surprise is about to happen and she’s not sure if it’s going to be scary, or really fun, or both. 

She likes the way it relaxes Bellamy, too. He’s always so tense, so quick to catch a skeptical glance when they’re out on Main street, so tired after he works mornings over in the stables of a former rodeo cowboy who once made it big and never forgot it, cleaning out stalls and exercising horses for a few bucks an hour. After kissing practice, he’s loose and languid, the suspicion and anxiety he picks up from their mother letted and bled clean through kissing her.

A few weeks into their agreement, Bellamy pulls away from her with a deep, contented sigh and rolls on his back to look up at the leaves over their heads. It’s getting on late in the afternoon, and lightning bugs are beginning to glow out across the fields. “You think I’m ready, O?”

“Hm?” Octavia asks, she’s still petting a little at Bellamy’s chest. This is a nice new thing they do too, a little bit of touch, light fingers running up and down arms and chests and sides. “Ready for what, Bell?”

“Sally Davis,” Bellamy says. “Think I’m good enough to kiss her?”

It makes the lovely warm feeling go a little cold in Octavia’s chest, and her fingers tighten in his shirt. “You still want to kiss her?”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?

“Yes,” Octavia says a little petulantly. “Well kiss me like you’d kiss Sally Davis for the first time and I’ll tell you.”

“Alright, get up,” Bellamy says, sitting up and dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“Why?”

“I’m not going to kiss her for the first time lying down, O, come on.”

He hops up and helps haul Octavia up so that she’s standing, easing her back into the trunk of the tree. He grins at her, a little mischievous and tucks a piece of flyaway hair behind her ear. “Ok, ready?” He asks her like he hasn’t spent the last hour and a half, spent the last three weeks, kissing her over and over and over again until their lips have gotten too sore to keep going.

She nods and Bellamy leans it and gives her a gentle, light kiss, nothing like the first time he tried to show her how he kissed. It’s a tease, because he knows Octavia likes a lot of sloppy tongue and mouths, but then he cups the back of her neck and kisses her deeper, lingering with just a gentle brush of tongue over her lower lip before he pulls away.

“How’s that?” he asks her, grinning. “I figure tomorrow I’ll ask Sally if I can walk her home after work and kiss her like that.”

“Fine. It’s fine.” Octavia says, almost blindingly jealous that Bellamy is going to go kiss Sally Davis like that, warm and soft and sweet, when she was the one who taught him to kiss in the first place. She pushes away from him because she can’t stand to be near to him right now. Jealously wells hot and black in her chest and it makes tears spring to her eyes. She’s too old to cry in front of her brother, so there’s nothing for it but to go home. She brushes past her mother washing dishes in the kitchen and shuts herself up in her room.

She sulks that evening and the next morning when Bellamy leaves for his job. He stops by her room before he goes and knocks lightly. When she doesn’t answer, he pushes the door open and looks at her where she’s sitting on the floor, playing petulantly with some of her dolls. “I might be a little late tonight,” Bellamy says gently. “You ok to make some dinner for yourself? I left out bread for sandwiches.’’

“Sure,” Octavia says, and makes her doll viciously push the old, second hand ken doll off the cliff of her bed. Maybe she’s too old to play with dolls but it feels good. When she looks up again, Bellamy’s gone. 

She’s used to entertaining herself, but the day passes slowly. She finally hears Bellamy’s footsteps on the porch when she’s making herself a peanut butter sandwich. The screen door slams behind him. “Hey, O, I brought you something.”

She turns to look at him, and he’s offering her a small container of what looks like pink soup. “I got you some ice cream, but it melted on the way home.” Ice cream is a rare treat-- precious dollars when Bellamy already makes so little, and she immediately abandons her sandwich. It’s still cold despite being mostly melted, and Octavia doesn’t even bother with a spoon, just tips it to slurp messily from the wide rim. Bellamy laughs a little at her eagerness and swipes ice cream off her upper lip when she pauses to grin at him. He’s such a good big brother, so warm and thoughtful and kind. He deserves a pretty girl like Sally Davis to kiss.

“Did you do it?” She can’t help to ask in the excitement of her forgiveness. “Did you kiss her?”

“I did,” Bellamy says, leaning back against the counter. He’s yet to hit his growth spurt, and at nine and fourteen, they’re still of an almost equal height. He still puffs up his chest a little like he thinks he’s tough. “Just like we practiced.”

“And?” Octavia prompts, imagining once against Sally Davis melting into Bellamy’s mouth and sighing the way Bellamy’s made Octavia sigh. “Does she like you? Are you going to kiss her again?”

“Always so many questions with you,” Bellamy chuckles, but he looks proud of that fact, not annoyed.

“You promised you’d tell me.”

“I don’t think I ever actually did,” Bellamy teases her lightly and Octavia pouts.

“Bell, come on,” she whines and he gives in.

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says with a shrug. “It was ok. I don’t think she’s kissed much before.”

“You didn’t like it?” Octavia asks, looking up at him. 

“I’m not saying that,” he says a little defensively. “Sally is fine. Just...We try more stuff.”

“Oh,” Octavia says and feels a tingle of excitement whisper through her. “You mean me and you?”

“Who else, O?”

“Do you want to keep trying more stuff?” Octavia asks. “Do we get to keep practicing?”

“I-yeah. If you want to, yeah.”

Bellamy barely has the words out before Octavia’s abandoned her ice cream and crowds into his space, kissing at him a little sticky and desperate and relieved. He tastes like chocolate when he finds the back of the kitchen chair and drags it over so he can drop into it and let her clamber into his lap, just like she likes. He opens his mouth to her and sucks gently on her tongue when she shoves it in ungracefully. It’s a relief, barely twenty-four hours without doing this, but it feels like coming home again.

“We don’t gotta stop, right?” Octavia asks in between sticky sweet kisses. “We can keep doing this even if you kiss Sally Davis too?”

“Uh-uh,” Bellamy murmurs and drags her closer for a deeper kiss. “We don’t gotta stop.”

“Good. I like it so much, Bell,” Octavia says a little desperately and she wiggles closer. “I like practicing with you so much.”

They don’t stop kissing that night until late. Bellamy lays her out on the couch and they kiss slow and deep, just indulging in the easy rhythm of lips sliding on lips, knowing how to make each other feel good. When it’s bedtime, Octavia doesn’t want to stop and Bellamy lets her crawl into bed with him for a little to kiss until she gets sleepy and content.

And maybe it’s not practice so much anymore. Octavia’s vaguely aware of the fact that one day they will have to face being with other people, because you don’t grow up and marry your brother. But the movies say that kissing is for people who love each other, and she doesn’t love anyone more than she loves Bellamy. Her summer afternoons are filled with his solid body pressed up against her, and their hands mapping their torsos. 

It just feels so good to kiss, to be close to him, and Bellamy’s just as fascinated as she is by the new swelling in her chest. It’s nothing much, but her nipples are more swollen and puffed up, some early hormones kicking in and they’re sensitive enough that Bellamy’s warm hands through her shirt feel really good on them. He brushes his thumbs over them, back and forth as they suck and nibble on each other’s lips and tongues, and that feeling in Octavia’s tummy grows, drips down between her thighs and pulses there, like an ache.

She doesn’t really know what to do about it, so she just mostly ignores it. It’s not a bad ache, it’s just there when she kisses Bellamy for a long time. It’s exciting and feels a little scary but the good kind of scary- like starting a new school year or trying to sound out new words. 

She’s in Bellamy’s bed late one night, Auror having gone to bed long ago in her room down stairs, when she feels something funny against her stomach, something hard and long where Bellamy’s always been soft.

“What’s that?” she slurs a little, sleepy and content. 

“Sorry,” Bellamy murmurs and shifts his hips. “It’s my- it does that sometimes.”

“Really?” Octavia giggles. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy admits, laughing a little too. “But it feels nice.”

“Really?” she whispers again. “Like what?”

“Kind of like an ache, but when I press on it, it feels good.”

“Can I touch it?”

“Sure,” Bellamy says obligingly, and twists away a little so Octavia can reach between them and curiously press her hand against Bellamy’s penis. It’s a little funny, they’ve never touched each other down here before, because Aurora always said that between their legs were private places. But Bellamy says it’s ok, so it’s probably like kissing- it’s ok to do it with people you love. He’s hot to the touch, and he twitches, makes a happy sound and presses back against her.

She pets at it like Bellamy pets at her nipples, and the quiet sounds he answers her with make the ache between her legs pulse stronger, in time with her heart. “Bellamy,” she whispers. “Sometimes I think I feel like this too.”

“Really?” Bellamy asks. “Between your legs?”

“Mhmm,” Octavia hums and Bellamy’s hand curiously cups her over her cotton underwear. He presses down gently, curiously, and there’s a place that feels really good, sweet and yummy and hungry that makes Octavia wriggle happily and coo a little. She likes the pressure of Bellamy’s hand there, likes rocking against the base of his palm, the way Bellamy presses into her hand.

“Bellamy,” Octavia whispers. “More. Can I-”

“Maybe if we-”

Bellamy takes his hand away, and gently pushes Octavia onto her back and crawls over her. She spreads her small thighs open to him, both of them clearly thinking the same thing, because Bellamy is carefully lowering his weight onto her so that lovely, hard part of him that wants just as much touch as the part of her between her legs wants is lined up against her.

“This ok, O?”

“Yes,” she whispers, giggling a little when Bellamy bumps it gently into her and it’s a little silly but it feels even better than his hand. She tries wiggling again to get the right pressure and friction that feels so good and is surprised by her own, delighted squeak when the long, hard length of Bellamy drags up against the small part of her that feels so good.

“That a good sound?” Bellamy whispers and Octavia nods frantically and tries to get that lovely tingly feeling again. Bellamy figures out quickly what she wants and he finds a rockcircle of his hips that grinds him into her and makes both of them make funny grunting noises. Octavia clings to him as her little body shakes under the sensation of it, her stomach getting really tight and that kind of scary, kind of exciting feeling starts creeping up her chest and down her legs.

She’s making all sorts of noises she doesn’t recognize and Bellamy bends down to seal his mouth over hers, slide his tongue into her mouth so she can suck on that like she likes instead of getting too loud. They definitely don’t want mom to wake up.

“Bellamy what is this?” She gasps as she breaks away from his mouth for air. 

“I don’t know, O,” Bellamy whispers, but even so he sounds rough and a little shaky, and she can just see how his cheeks have darkened in the moonlight. “I like it too. It feels like- like-, god, _fuck_.”

Usually Bellamy only cusses when he’s mad or upset, but the way he says it now isn’t bad. He says it like it’s a good word, a word that means nice things.

Bellamy rocks into her a little more frantically, and Octavia pets her hands down his back, as she pushes up into him. She feels her stomach get tighter, feels a little lightheaded and a rising promise of _something, something_ , _something._

And then the wave in her crests and breaks as Bellamy’s hands slide up to gently press against her nipples. Her whole little body shudders and she feels tingly all over, has never felt anything so big and expansive before and it _is_ scary, but it’s also so nice too. Her body feels like it’s singing and spasming and exploding with color and she can only stare up at her big brother in wonder because he made her feel this way. Bellamy makes a soft, happy groaning sounds and she feels his body jerk against her too, the hard part of him grind into the soft part of her that still feels so lovely and warm and good, and a dampness spread between them. 

Bellamy tucks his face into her shoulder and pants harshly, his breath tinged with the hint of a whine. He’s touching her face, stroking at her cheek and her hair and she realizes he’s whispering at her, _so good, O,_ and _I love you so much_.

“I love you too, big brother,” Octavia whispers back at him and turns her face, seeking out a kiss. Bellamy’s mouth is sloppy but they press their lips together as the shivery feelings slowly, slowly fade away. Octavia stays in her brother’s bed that night, wrapped up with him in spite of the sticky, oppressive heat. 

In the morning, she sleeps through Bellamy getting up and leaving for work, but when she wakes up, she spends a lovely morning on her own. She eats her breakfast and then does all the reading and math practice she supposed to do every day so that she and Bellamy have more time to kiss and chase after that lovely new feeling that they discovered last night together.

But Bellamy doesn’t come home when he’s supposed to. It’s not that unusual, sometimes he gets offered a few extra hours of work, so Octavia doesn’t think anything of it until it gets late and the sun is beginning to set. Octavia goes to sit on the porch bench, and sits on her hands like she does when she’s feeling worried. Just as dusk is really setting in, and the grey purple light makes the overhanging trees start to seem ominous and threatening, Octavia catches sight of Bellamy, trudging up the long lane.

He looks tired, head hung low and feet slow and heavy. She runs to him, tries to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him hello but he stops her, gentle but firm with hands on her wrists.

“No, O.” His voice is hoarse and breaks a little. “No, we can’t do that anymore.”

“What?” Octavia asks, confused and lonely after a day all by herself. All she wants is Bellamy pressed up close to her. “Why not, Bell? Where were you today?”

Bellamy takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, I-” he shakes his head, like he can’t finish “Come on, let’s go inside. You hungry? You must be hungry. God, I shouldn’t have taken so long to come back.”

Octavia trails after him inside. She’d eaten her sandwich for lunch, but she’d gotten too worried about Bellamy to stomach dinner. She doesn’t feel it now though, upset and scared by Bellamy’s defeated tone. She wants to kiss him better. She tries again, rocks up on her toes to seek out his mouth as he opens a can of beans but he cringes away from her, can’t even look at her.

“Stop it, O.”

“Why?” Octavia whispers. “What’s wrong, Bell?”

“It’s bad, okay? We have to stop practicing together. We have to stop everything we’re doing.”

“It’s not bad, It’s good and nice and I like it. Don’t you like it, Bell?”

Bellamy swallows hard and doesn’t look at her. “Only bad people do it with their siblings. I looked it up, O, ok? The library truck was on Main street and I looked up.”

Something cold drops into Octavia’s stomach, like when Bellamy told her he was going to kiss Sally Davis, except this is so much worse. Bellamy doesn’t think that that beautiful thing that happened between them last night was good. But Octavia knows it was- nothing that felt so sweet and good and delicious could be bad. Nothing that she did with Bellamy could be bad.

“The books are wrong,” Octavia says. “It’s not bad.”

“It is, O,” Bellamy insists, but all the fight has gone out of his voice. He sounds nothing like himself. “We’re not doing it anymore.”

“I thought you didn’t care what other people think,” Octavia says, throwing it in Bellamy’s face because she’s mad and made afraid by Bellamy’s voice. She’s never heard him sound this way before. 

“I care about looking after you. I’m not going to hurt you anymore, O.”

“You’re not hurting me. I like it. I _want_ it.” Octavia whines. “How can it be bad if it’s good?”

“It just is.”

“Why?”

“Why you gotta ask so many goddamn questions?” Bellamy snaps at her, suddenly angry. “I told you it was. All the books said so, ok? So just fucking drop it, O.” _Fuck_ isn’t a nice word anymore. It’s back to being bad and it’s makes the tears come fast.

“Well I hate you,” Octavia spits, stamping her foot. “And I hate those stupid books.”

The worst part is that when she runs up to her room, Bellamy doesn’t try to stop her. She cries into her pillows, muffling her sobs until she can’t cry anymore and her throat is dry and sore. When she opens her door, Bellamy’s left a sandwich and a cup of water outside for her, but when she tries to go to his room, he’s locked the door.

Silence weighs heavy between them for the next few weeks. Bellamy doesn’t stay away from the house, but he keeps a careful distance between them and he can’t seem to meet her eyes. It sits like poison between them, weighs heavy and makes Octavia feel sick to her stomach. Bellamy’s taken the lovely, sweet thing between them and made it wrong, and Octavia does hate him for it a little. They had something good and untouched between them, and Bellamy’s ruined it by bringing other people’s opinions into it.

Bellamy tries to make it better, as school starts. He helps her with her homework and tries to get her to go one walks with him, but Octavia can’t quite forgive him. She knows he realizes it, sees the sadness and longing for their friendship back, but she can’t bring herself to forgive him, not yet. 

“What do you want for your birthday, O?” Bellamy asks her one afternoon, trying to cajole excitement from her. She knows she’s been sulking, hasn’t let him make her smile in weeks. She looks at him, something like hope dawning in her chest. 

“I want to practice again,” she says. “Like before.”

Bellamy’s face falls but Octavia holds onto the hope that he’ll say yes, because Bellamy’s always given her what she wanted, even when she asked him for the plush dog she had seen in the general store two years ago. Bellamy had spent every dollar he had to buy it for her.

But when she wakes up and goes down to breakfast on her tenth birthday, her mom’s making pancakes and Bellamy hands her a little wrapped box. He’s whittled her a pretty little horse, and he must have spent a good deal of time on this but it just leaves a dull ache in her chest. They have a family rule, everyone only gives each other one present.

“Did you get me anything else?” She asks anyway, desperate, and her mother scolds her for being ungrateful and sends Octavia back to her room when she starts to cry. Later Aurora brings Octavia some tea and rubs her back, tells her it’s hard to start growing up. Octavia sniffs into her pillow and half listens to her mother, her voice and words gentle in between the cough that just won’t seem to clear up. 

The heat’s building outside, and dark clouds gather on the horizon. But the rain doesn’t come.

It doesn’t for a long time.


	2. Chapter 2

The old dusty pickup truck idles in the line of Lexus’, Jaguars and Aston Martins on the long, shaded drive. Bellamy knows he sticks out like a sore thumb in the patient traffic line of parents waiting to collect their daughters for the weekend, but he doesn’t give a shit. It’s Friday, and that means two whole days with O, two days off together when it’s almost like old times, her doing her homework while Bellamy makes them dinner, settling in for lazy day movie marathons and taking walks together, no longer out in the unkept fields of their childhood, but down the side streets in the town he rents his small apartment.

Octavia doesn’t fit the demographic of students for this school, with its arching windows and granite facade, the rolling, manicured lawns and iron fence that lines the property, cordons off the grounds as private and safe for the girls. Bellamy thinks Octavia is too wild for this place, fierce and free and clever, good and sweet and kind. But the terms of his guardianship require she reside at boarding school five days a week, and it’s the best school in the area. They’d gotten her in on a scholarship, and he’d seen the board of director’s eyes light up when he pitched O to them as “diversity”, a low income orphan, raised in the hicks and still smart as a whip. He knows O resents the place, the uniforms and strict schedule and snobbery of the century old school, and as much as he privately agrees with her, he knows it’s what’s best for her. Better than him anyway.

The gates at the end of the drive open, and Bellamy revs the engine of his truck, mostly to enjoy the disapproving glance cast at him from the rear view mirror of the cadillac in front of him. Bellamy gives the driver a casual open handed wave back.

Octavia’s sitting with a few girls on the bottom steps of the great entrance stairwell, but as soon as Bellamy gets his truck into the cul du sac, she leaps up, her plaid skirt swirling, and grabs her bag without waiting to be called by the staff checking names off lists. 

Bellamy leans across the bench to pop open the door, and then Octavia is scrambling up into the cab of the truck, grin lighting up her face and leaning in to hug him hello. She smells like a perfume he doesn’t recognize and the top button of her blouse is undone, the waist of her skirt rolled up so that the long length of her thighs are revealed, more than he thinks the school wants. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that swishes as she moves, and she looks exactly how a sixteen year old should: happy and smart and rushing to grow up.

“Hey big brother,” she says, not sparing a glance to wave goodbye to any of her classmates. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, O.” He plays nice until they’re out of the gates again, plays dutiful, respectful older brother until the staff are out of sight and then he cuts out of line and steps on the gas, makes O shriek with laughter as the engine roars and they hurtle past the polite, slow moving sports cars and back to freedom. The rules may have changed, but it’s still them.

*

It had taken longer than he had liked, for O to trust him again, smile at him again. He knew he’d hurt her, confused her, by what they had done together, young and naive and curious, and what he had ended so abruptly. He doesn’t like to think about it, the deep shame and dread that filled his whole body that afternoon in the mobile library still weighs cold in his stomach when he does. He’d been curious about what it was that made his body react like it had, that made O make those sweet little noises- no one had ever told him about that before, but his mom said books could teach you anything.

_Incest_. That’s what the book called what he was doing with O. And worse, _abuse_. They were big words in the middle of dense, heavily severe text and they took all of the delight and innocence out of kissing Octavia, out of rubbing up against her making them both feel good. It made it dirty and wrong and Bad. It made him bad. People who did that were exiled from society, hurt other people, innocent people, couldn’t relate to other people in a normal, healthy way. That wasn’t he wanted for Octavia, or what he wanted for himself. Even at fourteen, he’d known that neither of them was meant to stay in the little rural community that had one main street and generation of families who sat on porches and judged his family without ever getting to know them. 

He hadn’t been able to go back home for a long time that day, knowing that Octavia was waiting for him and wanting something that she didn’t know was wrong, but he did. He couldn’t burden her with just how terrible it was, their play. She’d been too young, and though she thought she knew the world, this alone proved they were only just beginning to learn. But he couldn’t bear for her to feel what he’d felt.

So he’d ended it, as gently as he could, and suffered her tears and her silences, her raging and the long, sad, lonely looks she sent him when he kept the distance between them careful and sure. He’d tried to make it up to her in little ways, tried to bribe her with little gifts and affections to reassure it was still them, that he still loved her and although she couldn’t understand, that he was doing this for her.

Slowly, slowly, Octavia forgave him. She was, by nature, sweet and loving and forgiving. She yearned for affection, physical and verbal, and as Aurora worked more and grew more tired and sicker, she looked to Bellamy to provide it. Bellamy gave her all he could, trying not to taint her, as he almost had, with his love.

He’d still managed to salvage some nice memories for them, before it all went to hell. Lanterns made of jars of fireflies; finding wild strawberry patches and eating themselves sick, Octavia’s teeth stained pink when she grinned; walking dirt roads together to school when the bus forgot to pick them up, Octavia trying to mimic his scuffing at rocks, but mostly just tripping herself up. They’d had it good, for a year or two there, until they hadn’t.

Aurora died on a bleak January day, overworked and sick with untreated pneumonia, that the doctors later explained to Bellamy had turned to tuberculosis. She had passed out at work and fallen, hit her head. She never work up again. Two days later, a social worker came for Octavia.

Bellamy had sat at the kitchen table after sending Octavia outside to play on the swing and listened to the slim woman. Octavia needed to be cared for in a home that could provide for her. He couldn’t come with her? He would be eighteen in a few months time and few families would be willing to take them both in when Bellamy would just have to leave so soon. Could he visit her? If it was deemed that was what was best. Could he get her back? Once he turned eighteen, if he proved that he could adequately take care of Octavia, that living with her brother would be in her best interest, the courts might grant him custody.

It took two years with monthly visits, but Aurora had left a nest egg of money she had never touched from before she fled her old life, her life before she disappeared with her kids, and the money she saved up for Bellamy to go to school. He found a cheap, two bedroom apartment and a steady construction job with overtime and weekends off. The courts finally allowed him to claim Octavia, with the stipulation that she attend a boarding school during the week that would offer her some structure. 

And honestly, for all that Octavia complains and the inherent elitism that comes with private schools which Bellamy the wrong way, the school does her good. It has excellent academics and when Bellamy did some quiet research, he found it also offered a comprehensive sexual health curriculum. That alone had sold him on it- he needed to trust that Octavia would be given the education that he had missed as a teenager, that she would be ready to strike out in the world and no one would be able to take advantage of her because of her ignorance in the matter. 

He pulls into his driveway and Octavia bounds out of the truck, only reaching back to grab her bag at Bellamy’s reminder. He thinks she must have a growth spirt every week, because he swears she’s taller than she was just last Sunday evening. She has her own set of keys to his place and is always insistent on using them, likes to feel like it’s her home just as much as it’s his, and Bellamy waits patiently while she fiddles with the trick lock.

“If you-”

“I know, I know,” Octavia grumbles and manages to get it to click open. His apartment is on the second floor, not very big by any means, but cozy. The kitchen is large enough to cook in and Bellamy can afford more than beans and toast these days, especially on weekends. He drops the grocery bag on the kitchen counter as Octavia flops down dramatically on his couch with a big sigh.

“It’s good to be home,” she says.

“Long week?” Bellamy wonders as he opens the fridge to toss her a soda. She doesn’t get soda at school and Bellamy likes that it means he gets to be the good guy and dote on her a little when she comes home. “How’d that math test go?”

“Oh, well enough,” she says with a little shrug. “We’ve started a new unit. Trigonometry.” She pulls a face.

Bellamy grabs himself a beer and pops it open, leaning on the counter and watching his little sister as she stretches. “They’re challenging you, that’s good. Maybe you can teach me some of it this weekend.”

“You know it already,” Octavia says airily. “You took it your junior year.”

“Yeah and you’re taking it as a sophomore. You can help me brush up on it.” He squeezes her socked toes playfully and she nudges his hand.

“Can I have a sip of your beer?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Drink your soda.”

“After I drink my soda?”

“Still no,” Bellamy chuckles. 

Octavia pretends to pout for a moment, popping her lower lip in a way she never did as a child. It’s a weird confluence of Octavia playing at flirtation without really realizing she’s doing it. She’s a natural chameleon in many ways, has had to be given how many times her childhood has been uprooted and changed course. But underneath, she’s still the same Octavia Bellamy’s always known. She’s strong headed and true to the lingering, ingrained childhood belief that she and Bellamy are set apart, different in a way no one understands. All the same, she’s learned to practice expected social norms and behaviors she sees around her in order to survive. He imagines this must have been an expression she’s picked up from one of the girls she hangs out with, a pout that walks the line of childish and alluring, likely flashed at one of the few male teachers when he failed to indulge a whim.

Bellamy ignores it and shakes her foot gently. “You want to help me make dinner?”

“What did you get?” Octavia loves to help, and she can’t put up a pretense in her excitement.

“Taco bar fixings. Come on, get changed and throw your laundry in and then you can help set up.”

Octavia comes bouncing out of her room ten minutes later, one of Bellamy’s old sweaters hanging off her shoulder and shorts that Bellamy notices she’s also rolled the waist of. She dumps sour cream, shredded cheese and guacamole into bowls and then sets to chopping lettuce while Bellamy sears the steak tips he got specially for tonight. They set up on the couch, a pack of tortillas open between them and dig in, some nostalgic sitcom marathon that does nothing for either of them on the tv. 

Octavia’s always ravenous when she first comes home, and she has a habit of talking more once food’s in front of her. She fills him in on her History and English classes, talks about physical education and how she saw birds building a nest outside her window. She wonders if Bellamy remembers the spring they found a baby bird and kept it in an old shoe box outside for the mama bird to come feed? 

Bellamy does remember, but he’s never told her how he found the baby bird dead one morning, the same day he’d told her it had learned to fly and gone back to live with it’s family.

“How are Susanna and Amelia?’

“They’re good,” Octavia says, inspecting her third taco. “Amelia has a new boyfriend.” She pauses for a moment to take a bite and cocks her head at him as she chews. There’s a question in her eyes that Bellamy knows he’s not going to like. “She said she gave him a blowjob last weekend,” Octavia says lightly. “She said she didn’t think she did it the right way.”

“Oh yeah?” Bellamy says and gets up to get a glass of water because he can’t keep drinking if this is what Octavia wants to talk about.

“What _is_ the right way to give a blowjob?” Octavia calls after him and Bellamy chokes on the water he’s chugging.

“There’s no one right way,” Bellamy says as briefly as he can. “What’s Susanna up to?”

“She’s getting a puppy with her family. But what’s the _best_ way? How do you like them?”

“O,” Bellamy says, a little pained. “I think if you ask your teachers at school they’ll have better resources for you.” 

“But you have first hand experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

Octavia gives him a sly smile, like they’re in on a joke together. “Why do you want to know anyway?” Bellamy asks, leaning back against the counter. Octavia curls herself up onto the couch and cushions her forearms on the back of the couch to look at him. 

“Why are you all the way over there?”

“I’m getting water.”

“You have water.”

“Do you want some?”

“Ok,” she says agreeably and waits until he comes back to sit on the couch with her and then she scoots closer to him, sweet face intent and a little concerned. Bellamy immediately feels bad and gives her shoulder a squeeze. Octavia gets anxious about distance, still reads it as rejection sometimes and he lets her cuddle under her arm. 

“What kind of puppy did Susanna get?”

“A german shepard. She had pictures, it was really cute.” Octavia takes a sip of her water and then looks up at Bellamy carefully. “Can I ask you something without you leaving?”

“I’m not leaving, I’m right here.”

“Would you teach me how to give a blowjob?”

“O,” Bellamy says unsteadily. “Didn’t health class teach you we shouldn’t do that?”

“They said family members shouldn’t have sex,” Octavia clarifies loftily. “But this isn’t sex. It’s just foreplay.” She says it so casually, so certainly like she’s teaching _him_ something new, clarifying terms for someone who’s never learned the difference. Bellamy feels little like he’s having an out of body experience right now. “It’d just be practice. Like what we used to do.”

“Siblings shouldn’t practice like that,” Bellamy says. “That’s why we stopped.”

“Why? What does it matter if you’re not getting me pregnant. That’s the issue right? The genetic diversity?”

Bellamy closes his eyes, struggles with the pride he has for Octavia knowing so much and the annoyance at her pigheadedness in trying to prove this point to him. “There are lots of reasons. You know that.”

“Other people have reasons,” Octavia says, sounding a little miffed. “But I don’t care about those.”

This tactic doesn’t work on Octavia, he should have known that, and by starting here, Octavia’s only just dug her heels in. She never had a life before their home in rural Georgia. It’d always been everyone versus them, she’d never had anyone on her team but Bellamy. She was raised on paranoia, on the fear that the man that made their mother run could reappear at any moment, that anyone beyond their little home could be a threat. It was only reinforced when the social worker took her away.

“This is something you’ll learn when you date someone. If you want to.” Bellamy tries carefully. “No need to know everything now.”

“Yeah but I could be so much better at it if I just knew the basics.”

“The answer’s ‘no.’”

“Why? I practiced with you when you needed to know how to kiss.”

“This is not- end of discussion, O.” Bellamy says as firmly as he can. “Come on, I got ice cream for dessert. You want some?”

“Fine,” Octavia says, inflicting as much disinterested monotone into her voice as possible, letting him know she’s annoyed. Bellamy tries not to feel guilty as he scoops them out two big bowls of neopolitan ice cream. Denying Octavia the chance to blow him is not something he should feel guilty about, Christ. Saying no to new clothes, to a puppy, sure. Not saying no to her lips on his-

Bellamy puts an end to that thought very very quickly and heats up hot fudge in the microwave. 

He thinks that’s the end of it. Octavia’s quieter than usual for the rest of the evening, sulking in a way only sixteen year olds can, but she still ends up falling asleep against his shoulder and the next day Bellamy drives them out to a local pond so they can go swimming. Octavia works on her homework that afternoon as Bellamy putters, and then when he drops down on the couch and turns on the tv she joins him, bringing a textbook and her phone with her.

“I was thinking,” she says, conversationally. “That if you don’t teach me how to give a blowjob, there’s probably someone who will on Tinder.”

Bellamy closes his eyes. Octavia never lets anything go. “You’re not getting on tinder and asking for someone to teach you how to give head.”

“You can’t stop me,” Octavia says, a little bratty and a little knowing. God, she knows just what buttons to push. 

“I can lock you in your room,” Bellamy says without any heat or intention.

“I’d climb out the window.”

“It’s a two story drop.”

“A sheet rope can’t be that hard to make.”

“Yeah the neighbors would love that. And our case worker.”

“Probably just as much as me meeting up with…” Octavia fiddles with her phone for a moment and then extends her phone towards Bellamy to show him the bearded, heavyset guy he vaguely recognizes from one of the local bars. “Eastmen. Who, by the way, would definitely be interested in helping me learn.”

“Octavia,” Bellamy snaps and tries to grab her phone from her. “Don’t talk to him, what the fuck are you doing?”

“He says if I wear my uniform he’ll-”

“ _No_.” Bellamy snarls. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Then you teach me.”

“I said no-”

“I’ll go if you don’t.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“I’m not threatening you I’m just stating facts.” Octavia gives him a look he knows all too well, a look that says she’s made up her mind, and come hell or high water, one way or another, she’ll get what she wants. Guilt and shame and anger surge in Bellamy’s chest, red and white hot for a moment at their circumstances, that choices and opinions of other people got them to this place where they know each other too well, love each other too fiercely for this end anyway but one.

“If we do this,” Bellamy says. “We do it once. Do you hear that?”

Octavia’s face lights up. “I mean it, O. This isn’t going to be like kissing practice. And you know the consequences of this.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Who would I tell, Bell? I don’t like anyone half as much as I like you.”

“I’m serious.”

“When aren’t you?”

“O.”

“I heard you,” she practically whines. “Just once, our secret. I got it, Bell. Can I try now?”

Bellamy covers his face with one hand, can’t believe he’s actually about to let his little sister learn how to suck cock by working it out on him, and Octavia takes it as his assent. She giggles like it’s a game that they’re playing and slides with alarming ease off the couch and wiggles her way to sit crossed legged between his thighs. Bellamy looks down at her face, still a little round with childhood, just starting to show sharp edges of cheekbones. She grins up at him, that unsettling mix of innocent and knowing, and she’s right- there’s know one that comes close in their lives to what they have with each other.

“So I just- do I take it out?” She asks him, looking up at him a little shyly. And goddamnit, if they’re doing this, than they’re doing this. What she wants is to learn, and Bellamy is going to teach, makes sure that by the end of this lesson she knows everything she wants to about sucking cock.

“You can,” Bellamy says, settling a little deeper into the couch to make sure he’s not towering over Octavia, make sure she knows she’s in control. “When you’re ready.”

She hums, thinking and then places her hands lightly on his knees and runs her palms up his thighs. It’s sweet, Bellamy thinks a little hazily, warming them both up. She is a little uncertain, he realizes, for all her bluster and he reaches out to gently stroke her hair out of her face. “You can ask, too. No one’s ever going to get mad if you ask them what they like.”

“Alright,” Octavia says with a little nod. Her hands are at his hips and she runs them tentatively down over the fronts of his pants and finds his cock, still soft, nestled in against his thigh. She flicks her eyes up at him as she gently touches it, curious over his jeans, fingers trying to best figure out the shape of him. “Is this good?”

“Yeah.” God help him, he’s getting hard fast. Octavia feels him grow under her hands and looks up at him, thrilled.

“It _is_ good.” She says it with wonder, like she hadn’t really believed that she’d be able to do this right. His swelling cock seems to be the last go ahead she really needs, bolster her confidence. “I’m going to take it out now.”

“Yeah, alright,” Bellamy agrees and helps her work his belt loop free and get the zipper on his jeans down and then her sweet little fingers are forging into his boxers and touching his cock bare for the first time. “Shit,” Bellamy can’t help but hiss because he already likes this more than he should. He drops his head back against the couch cushions as his little sister closes her fist around him and draws him out reverently, like she’s handling something breakable.

“It’s big,” she decides. “Bigger than it felt before.”

Bellamy feels the flush of the memory- that night he and Octavia rocked together in his bed, young and innocent and chasing the pull in their stomachs. It’s mixed with shame that he doesn’t want to think about just now and he pushes the memory down. “Yeah,” he manages. “Probably a little bigger now.”

Octavia hums thoughtfully. When he looks down at her and she’s simply looking at his cock, watching it like she’s trying to get to know it. “Bell, what do you call it?”

“What have you heard your friends call it?”

“A cock,” Octavia says, looking up at him with a grin. “A dick.”

“Fuck,” Bellamy bites out, wishing it didn’t make his cock pulse to hear his little sister say that when she’s got a hand wrapped around him and her lips are inches away from the tip. “I call it a cock too.”

“Cock,” Octavia says again, like she’s fully appreciating the word in her mouth, tilts her head curiously. “I like your cock, big brother.”

Bellamy chuckles, a little strained, and cuffs her chin affectionately. “Thanks, O.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Can I just touch it for a bit?”

“It’s your show,” Bellamy says generously and then Octavia’s hand slides slowly up from the base of his cock toward the head, warm and dry and gentle. It feels good, more relaxing than any other handjob he’s gotten. Octaiva’s content between his legs, leaning her weight comfortably against him and smiling at little as she watches her little hand move up and down his cock, getting accustomed to him. 

“That feels real good, O,” Bellamy encourages her as the the tip beads with precum and Octavia’s sharp eyes catch it, spark with curiosity. 

“It gets wet,” she says a little in awe. “I didn’t know guys get wet too. Well, not before the end.”

“Before they come?” Bellamy guides her gently, and Octavia’s eyes flash at him, her smile grows. She likes learning the right way to say things.

“Yeah, before they come.” She touches a finger lightly to where the precum rests and rubs a little, right on the top of his cockhead, smearing it, playing with it. Goddamn, it feels good. Bellamy resists the urge to physically guide her hand, he wants her to get fully acquainted and comfortable before they go further. 

Octavia trails her fingers feather light, and one a little sticky, down the side of his cock and then back up again. She curls her fingers around the base again and tilts it so it’s pointing at her, inspecting the tip more closely, and Bellamy’s stomach flips at how hot it is. Octavia’s so pretty, dark hair and blue eyes- such a thoughtful and curious girl playing unselfconsciously with his cock. She feels his eyes on her and smiles up at him.

“What should I do with my hands?”

“What you’re doing is good, you’ve got good instincts, O,” Bellamy can’t help but encourage her. “If you get your hand around it, yeah- like that, good girl- you can start jerking me off.” Octavia needs little guidance. She finds the perfect tight pressure with her fingers and gives him long strokes up and down his cock.

“God, yeah,” Bellamy groans a little and slouches deeper into the couch. “When you get your mouth on me, O, you can do that right at the base, on anything you can’t fit between your lips. Shit, O, hold up.” He catches her hand as it begins to chafe, the dry skin on skin getting a little too rough despite how good it feels, and he leans forward to spit in her palm before he returns her to his cock. “Better when it’s wet.”

Octavia nods sagely. “Like sex,” she says. “Or like my mouth.”

“Fuck. Yeah, exactly. Like you gotta be wet for you to feel good too, right? It’s like that.”

“Bellamy you’re getting wet at the tip again,” Octavia says like it’s a secret. She swipes her thumb over the head again as her fist reaches the top of his cock and Bellamy grunts.

“Next time, lick it. Ok, O?”

Octavia nods and scoots closer to him, eyes intent on the tip of his cock, hand going a little faster, trying to get him give her more precum. When it blurts up Octavia shuffles up on her knees and leans in, kitten licks across the head of his cock to get it. She makes a little face, her nose wrinkling up, and Bellamy chuckles, inexplicably fond of her.

“Bitter?”

“No, just different. Can I do more?”

“Yeah, O. If you’re ready.”

“I am, Bell.” She says it with that annoyed huff that she uses when he’s overly cautious about her. “So,” she says thoughtfully, bracing her elbow over his thigh and propping her chin up. “Do I just put it in my mouth?”

“Uh, that’s one way, yeah,” Bellamy manages. His heads starting to go a little hazy with how good her hand feels and he struggles to remember that this is new for her, that she wants his guidance. He catches her hand in his and gives it a squeeze to still her, cradling her hand cradling his cock as he takes a breath to clear his head. “You can also start by licking, like you were doing with your fingers. All over. It’s a good way to warm up.”

“That seems kind of weird,” Octavia giggles. “Does that really feel good?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“Alright then,” Octavia says with raised eyebrows, like she’s trying to say _you’re strange, big brother_. She leans close all the same and laps across the head of his cock and then down the sides of it, varying her technique without his prompting. Now wide, flat licks, now small teasing tickles of her tongue. He shouldn’t, but Bellamy gets a rush of pride all the same over how quickly Octavia picks this up. She’s so good, so eager to please and give. It makes him protective even as he’s proud.

“That’s real sweet, O,” he tells her gently, smoothing his hand over her head. “You’re doing real good.”

“Where does it feel best?” she demands, always trying to outdo herself. Her chin is shiny with spit and Bellamy tries to resist imagining her naturally low, rough voice gone raspier with having his cock in her throat, her whole face wet with spit and precum.

“I like it here,” Bellamy manages, tapping his finger against his frenulum. 

Octavia licks over his finger in her eagerness to get there. Bellamy grunts and gets out of her way because, shit. Octavia licks, broad and wet, over and over right there and he can’t help but get her hand started again on the base of his cock. He leaves his hand over hers, likes that he can support her and teach her so thoroughly. Octavia’s watching him as she licks him, notes the way his eyes drop half closed and then she surprises him. She sucks a kiss right there on his frenulum, closing her lips on him sloppily and wriggling her tongue right where it counts as she sucks on the skin like she used to suck on his tongue.

“Fuck, O,” Bellamy groans. “You’re a natural, aren’t you? You hardly need me, you’re so good at this.”

Octavia glows with the praise and she makes a happy sound right against his cock. “Jesus,” Bellamy breathes. “Yeah, good girl.”

“Can I do it for real now?” Octavia asks, ever impatient, ever trying to go further and do better.

“Do what? Suck my cock, O?”

“Yes,” Octavia says, cheeks flushing with it, her lips red and wet. “I want to suck your cock now, Bell.”

“Alright, yeah. You can suck my cock. Just go slow to start, you don’t got anything to prove.”

“You gotta tell me how, though,” Octavia insists. “The right way, remember?”

“Sure, O. I’ll tell you how I like it. You just start with the tip, ok? Just suck a little on the tip. Watch your teeth.”

Octavia smiles, mischievous, and then tentatively closes her lips over the top of Bellamy’s cock. It’s wet heat, the roughsmooth of her tongue so good, the tease of the wet velvet of her cheeks. She’s clearly a little unsure what to do with her new mouthful, but she’s Octavia through and through. She gives him a dangerous graze of teeth just to fuck with him. It makes him laugh, even as he’s struggling to not push deeper into her mouth. “Suck on it a little,” he reminds her. “It’ll get easier.”

Octavia tries, the first fluttering draw of her mouth almost enough to do Bellamy in. She gives him a few sucks and then remembers she can move her tongue and starts alternating the two. It’s lovely, soft and gentle and sends pulsing, fuzzy pleasure through his whole body. Bellamy groans softly and lets his head drop back. “Good, O,” he remembers to praise her. “Just get used to it.”

Octavia does. She adjusts to the thick mouthful and starts to mess around. She tries taking him a little deeper, manages to get about halfway down before it triggers her gag reflex and she backs off, settles for fisting her hand around the base like he told her too. Bellamy half contemplates teaching her to deep throat, seeing if he can make her voice go all raspy and broken, see what the flutter of her thin throat feels like, but she’s doing so well and is so happy about it. She keeps trying to flash him a smile around his cock and he rumbles at her, encourages her, tells her how proud he is that she’s such a fast learner. She makes a contented sound at that, and it vibrates over his cock.

“Fuck, yes,” Bellamy groans. “If you like it, you don’t gotta be shy about it. You can make pretty little noises like that one.” Octavia cocks her head up and him and hums curiously and Bellamy jerks. “And you can- can move your head. Up and down, ok? Yeah, there it is.” He shows her how to slide up and down his cock with a gentle hand on the back of her neck. Octavia gets messy about it fast, spit running down his cock and her soft, wet gasps and hums as she catches her breath, driving him up like crazy. She’s so into it, giving him the most eager, sloppiest, maybe best blowjob of his life, and the thought that her cunt might be getting wet while she learns to suck his cock is what pushes him right up against the edge.

“O, O, jesus,” Bellamy babbles a little. “You’re doing so well, I’m going to come. Hows that, huh? You’re gonna make me come, you’re so good at sucking cock. Up to you, you want to swallow it?”

Octavia makes an enthusiastic sound around Bellamy’s cock and tries to nod as she keeps bobbing her head, up and down, up and down, wet and hot and fucking so good that it’s all that Bellamy needs to come. He jerks as he comes, works really hard to not fuck further into her mouth and choke her, although he can’t help one desperate push of his hips that makes Octavia gag a little.

She manages to swallow most of his come, but a little dribbles out on her chin. She pulls off him with a final little gasp and sits back on her heels, grinning like she hasn’t since she was nine and beat him in a race to their towering oak tree for kissing practice. She wipes her chin with the back of her hand and considers his cock, still hard and pulsing where she’d laid it tenderly to rest against his thigh. “I liked that,” she decides.

“Yeah?” Bellamy asks. He tucks his cock away, feeling only a little self conscious about his baby sister watching him shrink back down. “Well, you’re good at it. So you don’t have to worry now, do you?”

“I guess not,” Octavia says perkily and then hops up off the floor and presses a smacking, wet kiss to Bellamy’s cheek. “Thanks, Bell.”

She trots out of sight and comes back with ice cream and they spend the rest of the evening with her feet in his lap while they watch football. Octavia seems content, a little smile on her face, and while she may not be worried any more, Bellamy finds he is. Not that she’s going to tell anyone, or even that they did anything particularly wrong, because O’s right, normal standards don’t apply. What he finds he’s worrying about, is that Octavia didn’t, not even once, ask about her own body.

Octavia shouldn’t only be worried about getting some boy she decides to date off. She should know how to ask for what she wants. She should know what makes her feel good, and be free to explore that. If this private school that they’re paying for isn’t teaching her that, then Bellamy knows, deep in his gut, that he has to.

Bellamy takes a swig of his beer, and makes a quiet decision that he’ll follow up with her about that. Not tonight, but soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's O's turn.

Bellamy drops Octavia back off at school the next evening having snuck a chocolate bar into her bag. She leans across the bench and gives Bellamy a long hug goodbye. “I’ll miss you,” she tells him, her soft voice vibrating into the skin of his shoulder. O hates saying goodbye, it’s never really gotten easier, she’s just better at hiding it.

Bellamy rubs a hand across her back and holds her as long as she wants to be held. “I’ll see you next weekend, O, right? Maybe we’ll go fishing.”

“Promise?”

“Do I ever lie to you?”

“No. Not you,” she concedes and it hurts him that she feels like everyone else in her young life can’t be trusted the way she trusts him. He doesn’t focus on how it makes him feel possessive.

That night, Bellamy goes to a bar a few towns over. It’s close to the rodeo that’s passing through, and he camps out at the end of the long counter, nursing a beer and waits. He’s never had much trouble getting girls, his tan complexion and thick curly hair seems to draw them like moths to flame, and it’s not long until a pretty blonde joins him. She’s not as tall as he is, but her thighs are thick and she’s got honey brown eyes and tits that tug at the buttons of her denim.

“Hey you,” she says, tilting her head under the wide brimmed stetson. “You look lonesome.”

“How can I be when you’re here?” Bellamy asks, and buys her a whiskey. She perches next to him on the stool and tells him stories about the rodeo, laughs at his about construction. She drops her hand to his thigh somewhere somewhere close to ten-thirty, and Bellamy takes her home.

She’s gorgeous spread out on his bed, and he takes his time getting her stripped down to the white panties that match the lace bra he sucked her nipples through until the fabric was wet against her peaked tits. Bellamy settles between her legs and rubs his thumbs over her satin covered cunt.

“I gotta question for you,” Bellamy says, leaning down to breath hot air against her, and the girl shivers.

“Ask away,” she rasps. “Only don’t stop.”

“When’s the first time a guy did this for you?”

“Huh,” the girl says, arching as Bellamy closes his mouth over her clit and presses his tongue against her, teasing her with the damp satin. “I’d say college probably. Yeah, Sophomore year, Tucker Wyatt.”

“He any good?” Bellamy asks, pushing back up to drag her panties down her legs. Her cunt is pink and wet and blushing from his mouth, her heady scent making him ache for a taste.

“Ain’t as good as I can tell you’re about to be,” the girls says and Bellamy chuckles. “He was alright,” she continues when Bellamy sets to lapping at her. “Couldn’t tell you where my clit was if you paid him though.”

“Did you tell him what to do?” Bellamy breathes against her, finds her clit with the tip of his tongue and flicks it quick and light. 

“That what you want? Me to boss you?”

“Can if you want, I don’t mind.” 

“Stay right where you are,” the girl says, “And suck.”

When Bellamy complies, pressing close so his chin gets wet and her shifting makes his mouth smack against her, she speaks up again, voice a little more distant, lost in his attentions. “I didn’t know how to tell a man what to do for a long time. Never thought I could.”

“Piece of ass like you,” Bellamy growls and licks into her harder, firming up his tongue to grind it on her clit. “I’d of thought the boys woulda been lined up around the street just to hear you tell them off.” 

He gets her off without any more questions, and she proves that she knows her way around a bronco when she pushes him back onto the bed and bounces on his cock, not losing her balance once as Bellamy bucks up into her, hard, just to see the extra bounce of her tits. 

After, tracing patterns on his back in the moonlight, she murmurs sleepily. “Why’d you ask all that?”

Bellamy’s quiet for a moment before he asks, “You ever wish someone had told you you could ask for what you wanted?”

“Sure. But the world ain’t that kind. It likes us girls to think we don’t know nothing about our bodies and what we like. We learn eventually though.”

“You staying in town long?”

“‘Til the end of the show, Friday. You ever think about joining the tour? Man like you, I bet you can ride.”

“Honey,” Bellamy says, rolling over and pulling her under him. “I didn’t prove it yet?”

She leaves her stetson in his living room, and though he goes to see her ride, meets the manager of the rodeo and agrees to call if his construction gig falls through, the stetson stays.

It’s the first thing Octavia picks up when she gets home Friday night. 

“Whats this?” She asks, turning to look at Bellamy curiously. 

“It’s a surprise for tonight. You want to go to the rodeo?”

“Really?” Octavia gasps. “No joke, Bell?”

“Honest truth,” Bellamy says, can’t help smiling at Octavia’s sheer delight. She loves the rodeo, always has- something about lights and horses and crowds, how the two of them can fade into anonymity in the midst of all the excitement. “You get changed and we’ll go after dinner.”

Lorri’s not working tonight- she’s off with friends, but she’s left Bellamy and Octavia tickets when Bellamy mentioned he had a kid sister, and one of the cowboys comes to find them during the barrel racing. 

“You Lorri’s friends?” he asks them gruffly, and when he finds they are, he takes them back into the stables and let’s Octavia curry brush his dappled mare, stroke her nose and feed her a carrot. He hands Bellamy a beer, and Bellamy’s content to sit on a hay bale and drink as Octavia glows with flushed happiness. 

“You should join the rodeo, Bell,” Octavia says on the ride home, a bucket of fried chicken in her lap. “And then every weekend can be like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! You’d have your own horse, Bell. And I know you can lasso. Everyone would cheer for you. You’d be famous. You should join up, I know you’d like it better than construction.”

“Maybe,” Bellamy chuckles, musing over the thought. “If I joined this tour, it’d mean I’d have to travel.”

Octavia goes markedly quiet, and when Bellamy glances at her in a stripe of an overhead highway light, the flash shows her lips pressed together, brows drawn. He kicks himself for thinking out loud and reaches over to give her should a reassuring shake. “I’m not going anywhere, O. Construction suits me just fine, and it wouldn’t be any fun unless you were in the crowd cheering for me too.”

“When I’m done with high school then,” Octavia decides, regaining her humor. 

“College,” Bellamy reminds her. “You still gotta go to college.”

“You didn’t go to college, why do I got to?”

“Because you’re too smart to end up like me. You’ve got brains enough to change the world.”

“I’ll go to college if you join a standing rodeo. That why I can study and come see you, and you can get famous and still be close.”

“Alright, O,” Bellamy chuckles. “It’s a deal.”

They get home late, but Octavia’s keyed up from the show and she dances around their small apartment munching on fried chicken while Bellamy tidies up. She’s picked up the stetson again and in one of his overlarge plaid shirts she’s wearing to stay warm and the short jean cutoffs, she looks like one of the characters in the stories they used to make up together. The bold, clever girls who knew how to ride the biggest, wildest horses, who always stood up for what was right and saved their big brothers from the big bad man who always seemed to be after them. 

He wants her always to stay this way. Grow up a little, enough that she trusts herself more, knows how to trust other people so she isn’t stuck with him as the only person in her life. But this wild, carefree, happiness? He can’t stand to have it dimmed, can’t stand the thought that someone might ever dampen it, keep her from speaking her mind, taking what she wants and deserves. 

“O, come over here,” Bellamy says, patting the counter next to him. Octavia trots over and jumps up to sit next to him as he finishes up washing dishes, offers him a bite of her chicken, helpfully brushes the grease from his lower lip. 

“We got two options for tonight,” Bellamy tells her, wiping his hands on a towel and carefully leaning away from her. He’s thought about how to offer this all week, and the only way he can think to do this is to know Octavia doesn’t feel any pressure or obligation.

“More than the rodeo?” Octavia asks, almost dubiously.

“Yeah, more than the rodeo. But you gotta pick what we do, ok?”

“Ok,” Octavia says, swinging her feet. “They’re good choices, right?”

“Only good choices. And whichever you chose, you aren’t hurting my feelings or upsetting me, okay? I like both options equal.”

Octavia nods, almost impatient. “Okay, Bellamy.”

“First choice,” Bellamy says, pulling out the DVD case from his bag and handing it to her. “True Grit, ice cream sundaes, and you and I can split, _split,_ O, a beer.”

“Really?” Octavia says, eyes lighting up. “You said I couldn’t ‘til I was twenty-one.”

“I know you,” Bellamy tells her with a shake of his head. “You’d find your way to getting one with Susanna and Amelia before long, and I’d rather you have your first one with me, so I can keep an eye on you.”

Octavia has a terrible poker face, but she’s trying hard to hide her excitement, give his second option the benefit of the doubt. “And the second?”

“I-” Bellamy clears his throat. “There’s an important part of the lesson we went over last week that I left out. Something that should come before what we did. If you wanted to-”

“Yeah, that,” Octavia says, interrupting him. “I want to do that.”

“O,” Bellamy can’t help but laugh. “I haven’t even told you what it is.”

“I don’t care,” Octavia says, putting aside the DVD, the ice cream, her first beer, and swinging her feet as she studies him. “Whatever it is, I want to try.”

“Why don’t I tell you what it is, then you can chose, ok?”

“Ok,” she says, nodding a little, but Bellamy can tell she’s only humoring him at this point. 

“Ok. Let’s start with what it’s called: you know what it means to get eaten out?”

To his surprise, a blush blooms across Octavia’s freckled cheeks and she looks down, her fingers twisting in the hem of the over-large flannel. “That a yes?” Bellamy asks her gently and Octavia lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. 

“It’s like a blowjob, but for girls,” Octavia says, a little hesitant. “But Bell, people don’t actually do that, do they?”

“Hey, who told you that people don’t do that?” Bellamy asks, tilting her chin up gently so he can see her face. “Your health class tell you that? Amelia?”

“No, just-” Octavia stops and frowns at him, not angry but thoughtful and serious. “I just thought that was the way it was.”

“Well, I know for a fact that people do it. Some guys don’t, maybe because they don’t know what they’re doing and are too chicken shit to say so. They might tell you different, but they’re liars. That’s a good way to know a guy isn’t worth your time, you hear that?”

Octavia scrunches her nose up at him. “Why’s it so important?”

“Well,” Bellamy says, leaning back against the other counter and considering her. “Because you should know that if you’re willing to give a guy a blowjob, he should be willing to get you off too, not just-, well,” Bellamy stumbles a little. “Giving blowjobs and fucking isn’t all there is to sex.”

“Huh,” Octavia says cocking her head and then looking back down at her hands. She’s so much shyer about this than he’d thought she’d be and Bellamy’s gut clenches: he wonders if he’s made a mistake.

“Listen O, if this doesn’t feel right, we got a movie and a beer to split, right? You’ve got nothing to prove here.” Bellamy says, shaking out his arms. “Come on, let’s go get that movie set up, ok?”

“No!” Octavia says, her leg kicking out and trapping him in the small cul-de-sac of their counters. “No, I want to learn. I want to do this. It’ll- it’ll feel good?” she asks, almost like she’s not sure.

Bellamy’s heart aches and he drops a gentle hand to her knee, rubbing a soothing circle there with his thumb. “A lot of girls really like it,” he tells her. “Can’t say everyone does, but yeah- the idea is that it makes you feel good.”

“Do you like doing it?” Octavia asks, cocking her head at Bellamy, studying him with a seriousness that makes him want to tug on her ponytail just to see her smile.

“Yeah,” Bellamy admits. “I do.”

“Ok, how do we do it?” And just like that, Octavia’s in learning mode, sitting up at attention, head cocked at Bellamy like he’s got all the answers to the universe. On any other girl, that look would be dangerous, heady, but on O, Bellamy feels the weight of responsibility to make this good for her, show her how good her body can make her feel.

“Well, we gotta warm you up first,” Bellamy lets his hand on her knee drift a little higher and squeezes gently at her toned thigh. “Figure out what makes you feel good.”

“I like that,” she says, a glint in her eye that Bellamy hasn’t seen in a long, long time. It’s the gleam of adventure, of exploration over unmapped seas of grassy fields and racing each other up yet uncharted climbing trees. This is _fun_ , and Bellamy feels the answering spark light up in his chest and he can’t help but grin at her. 

“Good,” Bellamy chuckles. 

This would be easier to start if she was just some pretty girl he’d picked up in a bar, someone he could kiss until she was dizzy and he could make quick work of her shirt and shorts while she was caught up in the press of their lips and slide of their tongues. But she isn’t- she’s O, his sister, and whatever fucked up lines they’re crossing in this, Bellamy knows he can’t kiss her. That’s one line he’s drawn in the sand, and even if they’ve leaped far, _far_ , over that line, he’s not going to go back and hastily brush it out. It allows some normalcy in all this, boundaries he can point to a say this was all educational. Instead, he steps close and slides his hand further up her leg, around the soft, barely there curve of her thigh to rest on her hip. Octavia tilts her head back and Bellamy can’t help but brush his hand down the long column of her throat, affectionate.

Octavia’s eyes flutter again at that and her smile softens a little at the edges. “That feels nice,” she whispers. 

“Oh yeah?” Bellamy asks, heart warm as he trails his fingers back up and watches the goosebumps rise in their wake. He slides his hand around to the back of her neck and squeezes gently, digging his thumb into the muscle there. Octavia sighs, happy and warm and drops her head forward to let Bellamy work. He squeezes again and then follows the line of her muscle down into her shoulders. She’s strung so tight that it takes a deep press of his fingers to dig into the knots. 

“Jesus, O. You holding enough tension?” he teases her, only a little alarmed at how tight she is.

“It’s fine,” Octavia murmurs, voice dreamy. She presses back into Bellamy’s hand hungrily and Bellamy works with both hands the tendons over her collar bones until Octavia is all but slumped into his chest, her forehead resting on his shoulder. 

“You just want a backrub?” Bellamy asks her softly, cupping the back of her head and digging his thumbs in right at the base of her skull. “Work some of this out?”

“...no,” she decides, sitting up a little, although her eyes are hazy from his touch and she already seems a little blissed out. “I want to learn.”

“Alright, O,” Bellamy chuckles. He gently pushes the flannel off her shoulders and down her arms until she gets with the program and shrugs out of his shirt. She’s left in a tank top and Bellamy takes a breath before he strokes a hand down her chest and rests his hand between her breasts. He traces his thumb over the bottom of her bra and feathers kisses along her temple, against her baby hairs. “That ok?”

“ _Yes_ , Bell,” Octavia huffs, sounds impatient as she arches up. Her nipples are tight and the hard nubs of them are visible through her shirt and bra. Bellamy rubs his thumb over one and Octavia’s answering breath is sharp. Bellamy repeats the motion, presses down a little harder with his thumb and circles the peak until Octavia shivers and shifts and he switches to her other breast.

“I remember this part,” Octavia whispers like she’s worried about startling him. “I liked this part.”

“Yeah? Your tits getting played with? I remember that too,” Bellamy admits and can’t resist cupping his palm over her breast. He lifts it gently to feel the weight of it, how much she’s grown since they were small. Her nipple presses insistently into his palm and he squeezes her, catches the peak between thumb and forefinger and gives her a soft tug.

Octavia gasps. “Bell- it’s. It’s like that time in your bed, back home-” she shifts on the counter and when Bellamy glances down she’s squeezing her thighs together.

“Yeah? You feeling achy?” Bellamy asks her. He trails the hand he’s kept on her thigh across to dip his fingers between her legs and just ghost them across her cunt. “Right here?”

“Uh-huh, there,” Octavia whines. 

“Good,” Bellamy says encouragingly. “That’s exactly what you should feel. Your body’s doing a good job, O.” He taps his fingers against her and Octavia’s hips buck up. Bellamy tries to ignore how it makes his cock twitch and fill, how eager and uninhibited his little sister is.

“What’s next?” she asks, ever impatient. Bellamy takes a breath and cups her cunt fully, giving her the full pressure of his hand and Octavia makes a delighted noise and shifts against him, wriggling to chase friction on her clit against his fingers. “Wow,” she giggles. “Wow, Bell.”

Even at sixteen, she’s still as thrilled and sweetly excited in discovering how her body can feel as she was as a kid. Octavia hasn’t assumed any of the coy, weirdly cold affects Bellamy has seen in some of the girls he’s slept with, the habits he think must be adopted with age and shame and trying to figure out what sex is supposed to be like. Octavia is flushed and her eyes are half closed as her hips work against his hand, but she’s grinning something fierce, and her movements are proprietary of her pleasure, not for show. 

“You’re doing so well, O,” Bellamy murmurs as he leans his forehead against hers and Octavia makes a hot sound, clinging to his arms. “Tell me what it feels like?”

“Like, like-” Octavia scrunches her face up and grinds harder into his hand. “Like it’s good but it’s not enough. What do I do, Bell?”

“ _We_ get you off,” Bellamy says. “Here.” He works a hand under her ass and hefts her up off the counter. “Let’s get you out of your shorts, O.” Between the two of them, with some shuffling and short, giddy laughter, Octavia manages to kick her shorts down her legs and Bellamy drops down to get them over her boots. They land on the kitchen floor without ceremony and Bellamy stays crouched between his sister’s calves. He places gentle palms on the insides of her knees and runs his hands up her legs, gently pushing her thighs open. Octavia’s panties, white and uniform, are soaked through, and he can see the shape of her cunt, swollen and wet. He lets himself wonder for a moment if her labia are the same sweet pink of her lips, dusky and promising.

“Ok,” he says slowly and looks up at Octavia. “If you’re good with this, I’m going to take your panties off, ok? And then I’m just going to touch you a little to start, like you touched my cock, and you can tell me what feels good. Sound alright, O?”

Octavia nods, the furrow of her eyebrows determined. “Come on, Bell, I’m ready.”

He rolls his eyes at her, because she’s being a bit of a brat, and her underwear joins her cut offs on the floor. Octavia’s cunt is downy with soft, dark hair and Bellamy can smell her, briney and sharp. Her labia peek shyly from between her outer lips, slick and inviting, flushed pink from grinding against his hand. Octavia’s hand lands unsteadily on Bellamy’s head. She’s shivering and Bellamy doesn’t think it’s from any chill in their apartment. 

Bellamy rubs a reassuring hand against her thigh. “Kinda scary?” he asks her gently. 

“No,” She says, stubborn. “Just-- Does it look ok?” 

“What? Your pussy?” Octavia doesn’t meet his eyes but she nods, and a soft tremble goes through her thighs. Bellamy turns his head and presses a gentle kiss to the delicate, soft skin. “It’s beautiful, O. You’re beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that,” Octavia says, trying to sound knowing and put out, but Bellamy sees the relief in her face. 

“Am not,” Bellamy teases her back. He slides his hands up to frame her cunt and he pulls gently at the skin in the crease of her thighs. It opens her cunt up so him beautifully, and she is gorgeous- dusky and pink and wet in the most inviting way. “Look at that, I can hardly keep my mouth off you.”

“Oh my god, Bellamy,” Octaiva laughs, squirming, but she looks more at ease, glowing at his gentle praise. Bellamy kisses her thigh again, gives her a hint of tongue and Octavia makes a small, involuntary sound. He keeps his mouth slow on her, getting her used to it as he brushes his thumbs across her outer lips, letting her get accustomed to the direct touch. He’s not sure what Octavia’s seen, fashion magazines, or blogs or even random twitter comments that have made her doubt the shape of her vulva, but it’s all the more reason that he teach her how normal this is, how good it can be. That her pretty cunt, pink and sweet and uniquely hers, deserves just as much love and attention as she might give a cock.

“Hey O, did health class give you words for this part of you? The part that makes you feel good?”

“Um, I know what it’s called, the outside bit. A ‘Clitoris’?” Octavia asks and Bellamy tries to bite back his smile at how smart Octavia is. 

“You mean this part?” he asks and taps her clit directly so that Octavia gasps and her hips buck up, chasing the feeling. “That your clitoris?” he teases her gently.

“Yeah, I think so. What do you call it?”

“‘Clit’,” Bellamy offers her the slang and she repeats it. He tugs on her labia playfully, light and alternating. “What’s the rest of this called?”

“A ‘pussy’,” Octavia says, looking proud of herself. “Right?”

“Damn right. ‘Pussy’ or ‘cunt’ too, just generally. So you can tell me what you like, right?”

“Yeah,” Octavia breathes. “WIll you touch my clit again?”

“Yeah, O, of course.” He settles his thumb back on her clit and presses down gently in pulses so that Octavia gasps, her hips lift chasing the pressure. Bellamy grounds her gently back down with a hand on her hip and takes mercy on her, dipping his thumb between her labia and stroking it up long and slow so that the nub of Octavia’s clit drags against the callous there. 

“Ohh,” Octavia whines. “Bell. Again.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Bellamy urges her and gives it to her again, gets his other thumb in too so that for his little sister it’s all one long, wet, rub against her clit, just enough friction of rough and hardened skin to make it fun. 

“Oh, wow. Oh. Um,” Octavia squeaks and her legs twitch where they bracket him. Bellamy grins up at her, and Octavia’s flushed, her bangs sticking to her forehead, her lower lip caught temptingly between her teeth. She’s shaking slightly, hands scrabbling at the counter as she tries not to buck up again. 

“Those good sounds?”

“Mhmm. More.”

“More? Like you want to get eaten out?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Octavia gasps. “That.”

“You want me to kiss your pussy?”

“Bellamy,” Octavia giggles through her moan. “Yeah, come on.”

“What’s it called?”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying,” Octavia groans and one of her hands lands impatiently in his hair and tugs a little too hard at his curls. “Eating out.”

“So what did you want me to do?”

“I want you to fucking eat me out,” Octavia nearly growls, hips lifting under his hands.

“ _Language_ , O,” Bellamy teases her, but quickly kisses her thigh again. She’s so wet under his thumbs, so soft and ready for him to really get to work. “Yeah, I’ll eat you out.”

He shifts closer and pulls her outer lips open wide with his thumbs so he can see all of her- her pink little clit, swollen and hungry, her labia full from friction, and the entrance to her cunt. Bellamy ignores the way his cock twitches again. He gives her a kiss to start, right on her clit, keeps it light but lets his lips part around her clit so she gets the heat of his mouth.

Octavia’s sharp inhale is more than enough encouragement to continue. She’s just so eager, little huffs and gasps as Bellamy tries to keep it light to start. He tries to tease her with little tongue touches and gentle friction of his chapped lips, but she pulls at his hair, (no manners at all, he thinks with a chuckle,) and whines.

“Easy, O,” Bellamy laughs, wincing a little as Octavia drags his face into her, smooshing his nose against her pubic bone. “Use your words.”

Octavia makes a high, desperate sound. He’s being mean, working her up and then teasing her, and Bellamy guides her legs over his shoulders, then pulls her hands from his hair and interlaces her fingers with his own. He licks flat at her cunt, and can’t help his own groan against her because his little sister tastes good: salty and maybe a little addicting. He buries his face closer and sucks on her labia, slides his tongue between them so he can circle the tip of it around her clit.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Octavia gasps near violently. Her thighs shake around his head. “That. That, that, that _that.”_

Bellamy’s grunt of acknowledgment is muffled, lost in her cunt. He pulls her hips closer to the edge of the counter and really gets to work. Long, hard licks focused right on her clit like his thumbs had. He flattens his tongue and rubs it back and forth on her, up and down, side to side, getting her slick all across his chin and upper lip. Octavia’s harsh gasps egg him on, and Bellamy maybe loses himself in this, maybe presses his hard cock against the faux wood of their cabinets because this is so much. 

She’s so responsive, trembling, gasping, fingers squeezing his frantically. Bellamy draws her clit into his mouth and sucks on it, first careful and slow and then at Octavia’s frustrated moan, harder. She likes that, hips tilting forward and up and Bellamy slides their intertwined hands under her ass to help her stay lifted for him. She’s dripping, getting her thighs and the counter nearly as wet as his chin. 

“This- this. Bellamy,” Octavia babbles, and when he looks up at her, he’s not sure she’s even aware of what she’s saying. Her eyes are blown wide, forehead furrowed in concentration, but she’s grinning a little wildly. God, she loves this, and pleasure looks beautiful on her. 

Bellamy gives her fingers an encouraging squeeze and doubles down. It doesn’t take long. The combination of suction and tongue and his soft grunts against her have Octavia’s thighs cinched tight around his head, and she’s jerking at every touch of his tongue. She’s so close, mewling a little in frustration, hips shifting, chasing her orgasm which must be fluttering just out of reach. He wants to tell her to breath deep and just feel, wants to reach up and play with her tits for her, wants to kiss the lip that she’s biting down on, but all he can do is slide his thumb up between her legs and tap lightly, teasing just against her wet entrance. Once, twice, a gentle press, not in, just the suggestion that he _could_ , and Octavia goes silent as she comes, her cunt contracting wildly under his mouth.

Her body convulsives around him, legs nearly shaking off his shoulders and Bellamy has to stand up quickly to catch her weight as she collapses forward. 

“Easy, O, easy,” Bellamy breaths, tucking her head into his chest and stroking her head as Octavia’s breath comes in ragged gasps tinged with a whine. “I got you.”

Octavia’s fingers fist in his shirt, heavy and a little clumsy. She tucks her face into his armpit and he feels her breath deeply, breath shuddering out.

Bellamy just holds her, tries to soothe the twitches and aftershocks of her orgasm as they roll over her. He’s filled with so much love and pride for his little sister that his chest feels tight, fit to bursting. It’s easy to ignore how hard his cock is now, because all that matters is Octavia: woozy and slowly affectionate against him.

“How was that, O?” Bellamy asks and realizes his voice is hoarse and rough. He clears his throat carefully. 

“‘Was good, Bell,” Octavia murmurs and then giggles a little and slides her arms around his waist. “I liked it- getting eaten out.”

“Good,” Bellamy praises her gently and then pulls her up into her arms, because there’s no need for her to shake off the sleepy bliss on her face. “Come on, bed time for you. It’s been a long day.”

He tucks her into bed, helping her pull off her tank top and bra and getting her into one of his old t-shirts that acts as a makeshift nightgown for her. 

“Bell,” Octavia murmurs as he stands up to leave. 

“Yeah, O?”

“You’re not gonna get weird again, are you? Like before?”

“No, O,” Bellamy says, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “This was just practice, right? Just so you could learn.”

“Yeah,” Octavia yawns and rolls onto her side, curling up. “Love you, big brother.”

“Love you too, O.”

He dumps her clothes in the laundry, wipes down the kitchen counter and then turns on the shower. He jerks himself off roughly, thinking about Lorri, and curvy women behind tightly shut eyes, and for the most part, it does the trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shrug emoji*  
> Now back to Blakelarke.


End file.
